


as of blood, fire, or rubies

by tree



Category: Lady of the Shard (Webcomic)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Mind Control, Seduction, Sex with a (Literal) God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: Who did you say your heart belonged to?





	as of blood, fire, or rubies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



> The title comes from the dictionary definition of 'red'. Some dialogue is taken from the comic.

  

"Just think about how devoted you are to your goddess," says the Old God, taking her hand. "Think about how much you love her."

Without meaning to do so, the Acolyte feels herself slipping beneath her outrage and into the silvery moonlit place where the Radiant One lives in her heart. There is such gentle peace here in the cool darkness, such contentedness under the glittering stars; if only she could remain in this sanctuary forever. 

"That's it," murmurs the Old God at her ear. "Relax."

A curious warmth radiates from the Acolyte's hand where it's twined with the Old God's; it pulses a path along her arm and then spreads through the rest of her body, making her flush. In her secret heart-space, the white pinpricks of stars overhead seem to blur and dim, as if a veil has been thrown over her mind. Their muted glimmer begins to darken, flowing from shades of opalescent pink to attain the deep wine-red of rubies. She reaches for that sweet, pure haven of tranquility but it dwindles before her eyes, lost behind gauzy tatters of mist or smoke.

The acrid taste of ashes lingers in her mouth.

"What have you done?" she demands of the Old God.

A heavy sigh gusts against her cheek. "We literally just had this conversation. I'm trying to create a little mutual understanding. Work with me, here."

"I won't betray the Radiant One. Nothing will force me to do that. I'd rather die."

"You really are the cutest thing! Don't worry, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do." Little by little the Old God's voice alters as she speaks; it becomes deeper, huskier. Seductive. "No, I won't make you do anything at all. I won't have to. You see, you'll want to do it. You'll want it so much you'll beg."

"I'll never want anything from you!" 

The Acolyte tries to struggle away from the Old God's embrace but her limbs have turned heavy and stubborn. What began as peculiar warmth is intensifying into tingling heat, vibration like a liquid hum under her skin. She's suffused with an unfamiliar lassitude; even her thoughts grow muzzy and thick.

"It's so precious you actually believe that. No wonder she's obsessed with you. All that sweet, eager love just begging to be skimmed off and poured out like cream."

For the first time, the Acolyte is truly afraid, yet already the fear feels distant, separate and quickly diffused. Her head falls to rest against the Old God's shoulder, her neck too weak to hold it up. Something impossible is moving inside her mind, stretching and rubbing within her like an animal wanting to be petted. 

"No, that's not..." she whispers, without understanding her own denial. Sensations flash through her like falling stars, bright shocks of heat and light that steal her breath.

"Didn't she lie to you? Abandon you?" croons the Old God, her voice hypnotic, irresistible. "Didn't she ignore your offerings? Didn't she reject your love?" The words themselves are hard to grasp but the meaning behind them feels resonant. 

Against the Acolyte's back, the Old God's body is a potent force, so soft and welcoming, so tempting to sink into. The Acolyte finds herself pressing into the touch of the hand at her waist, the hand that's moving now, sliding over her robe and spreading delicious heat in its wake. There's a stirring like the breeze around her robe, but no wind inside the temple. The air here is still, even stifling. She's overheated and her head is spinning; she can't remember what's happening, why she's here. There's something she's forgetting...

Invisible hands part her robe, lifting its unwanted weight from her body. Its absence is a blessed relief. This is everything she's longed for: to be unencumbered and wrapped in the arms of the Ancient One, whose presence within her mind surges like the blazing path of a comet. Flames lick at her with their fiery tongues, lapping at her tenderest flesh and plunging hotly deep into the secret places where her sinful thoughts hide. She cries out as all her wrongness is reduced to ash, as the wounds are cauterised by mercy and finally healed. To be so utterly torn open, so _seen_ , is an ecstasy she never knew existed.

The Sacred One, beloved conqueror, knows her, knows every part of her, and caresses her with the sharpest pleasure-pain of forgiveness. An overwhelming kaleidoscope of colour and sensation swallows her, ravishes her into bliss.

 _Feel my love for you_ , says the Ancient One in her mind. _Feel how it warms you and fills you. You'll never be lonely. You'll never need anyone but me._

The Acolyte's whole body seems to throb. "Oh," she breathes, stupefied by the storm of pleasure. She writhes in the Ancient One's embrace, yearning for some nameless thing she has no words for. The heavy ache in her breasts, the tightness of her nipples, the wet heat between her legs all grow unbearable. "Please," she whispers through dry lips. "Oh, please."

"Love me," whispers the Sacred One aloud. "Live for me. Only me."

"Yes," moans the Acolyte.

Invisible hands rove her body, touching and stroking where she's never dared before; mouths sip at her skin, their tongues licking, lips kissing. Slippery fingers slide between her thighs, gliding up and up and up and—

She hasn't— She can't—

" _Oh, goddess, please..._ "

Writhing and whimpering, burning alive, full to bursting with the living fire of the Ancient Creator, the Acolyte is plundered and rubbed raw by pleasure. The pain is so _much_ that tears stream down her cheeks, so _good_ that her moans tear at her throat.

"Open your eyes."

There before her stands the Ancient One, monstrous and divine. Beholding her dreadful beauty, the Acolyte falls to her knees in shuddering wonder. 

"Worship me," commands the Sacred One, parting her thighs to reveal her glistening, swollen sex. 

The Acolyte blissfully obeys.

She opens her mouth against the lush, wet folds, drinking from them as from the blessed rain. It could be hours she spends in her devotions, reverently gorging herself on divine flesh, drowning in the exalted ocean. Every pulse of pleasure she gives her Sacredness is shared. The fire burns her, its consuming ecstasy searing away the past, everything, until all that remains is the Ancient One and the exquisite agony of her love.

The Acolyte's heart is a roaring inferno; all the shades of the sunset stain its single sky. Gone are the hidden places she once guarded so faithfully. There's no need for them now.

In time, the Sacred Origin gently pushes her away.

"No, please, let me, please..." the Acolyte sobs at the loss.

But the Supreme Creator gathers her tenderly in her arms, comforting her with soft kisses and soothing hands. The beloved fire only burns more fiercely. Those holy kisses, those sacred hands, descend along the Acolyte's body, dragging their tongues of crimson flame. They reach her sex and enter, devouring her in a blood-red blaze. 

The pain is immense and glorious. There's no relief, nor does she want it; she craves only this rapturous immolation by the divine will of her goddess.

 _Love me_ , comes the sublime instruction.

And the Acolyte, incandescent as a supernova, screams her love out to the Distant Stars as she burns and burns and burns.

An infinity passes. 

At last, very slowly, the violent reds of the vast galaxy fade to the rosy pink blush of the temple room. The exultant conflagrations of body and spirit subside to warm, banked embers.

"Mmm," hums the Acolyte dreamily. She isn't curious about what has happened. Secure in the mutual understanding she shares with her goddess, she has no need for questions anymore.

"Look how obedient you are," the Ancient One purrs indulgently and the Acolyte shivers with euphoria at the praise. "Now. Who did you say your heart belonged to?"

  


End file.
